Flowers and Dust
by Madea's Rage
Summary: Silence-verse. Death Eater drabbles, companion piece to 'Sunshine'.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Love to reviewers**

**And my dear Countess Black. She's always patient with even my craziest schemes.**

**The Death Eaters demanded equal time in terms of drabbles, so consider these companion pieces to 'Sunshine.'**

**Nasturtium means, among other things, 'Victory in Battle; Maternal Love; Charity' according to my sources.**

**July 1998**

"And you maintain Dumbledore asked you to do it?"

"Yes."

"To protect Draco Malfoy? "

"Yes."

"What would impel you to obey? Surely the younger Malfoy knew what he was doing when he took the Mark?"

Snape tilts his head and stares at the idiot in front of him. "Do you presume to suggest it was possible for him to deny the Dark Lord, knowing the consequences of disobedience would be his father and mother's deaths?"

"And your affection for the aforesaid Draco Malfoy led you to murder on his behalf?"

Snape shakes his head and gropes for his handkerchief, feeling his fingers brush the small piece of velum in his pocket. "Draco is my godson."

"The court is aware. Would you like to explain how one led to the other?"

"No." Likely he can't, anyway.

**February 1983**

Snape relaxed into the chair and sipped his claret. Across from him, Lucius Malfoy was expounding on his belief that the new innovations that the Germans were making in broom technology would revolutionize Quidditch.

"That man—is it Muller?—with the ultra-light staves, he's the right idea. "

Snape nodded. "Yes, but you know how the European League is about these things." Lucius sipped his own wine and sighed pensively, wondering whether his plans to import the brooms to Britain were doomed to failure.

"Bagman seems to think it will go through."

"Bagman also thinks he's subtle in his taste for sport." Both men laughed a little, recalling the many snide jokes about Ludo Bagman's love of gambling. The door opened and a little blond head appeared, followed by the rest of Draco, clutching a stuffed animal for dear life.

"Hello, Draco. Did you have a good nap?"

"Ys' Father. Bas'l and me 'r' hidn from Tibby."

"Basil and I, love. Why are you hiding?"

Draco grinned. "Playn Peek."

Lucius suppressed a smile. "Does Tibby know you're playing Peek, Draco?"

"No." Draco toddled over to Snape and studied him seriously. " 'nape."

"Yes, I am Severus Snape." Draco nodded as though agreeing with this and lifted his arms. "Up!"

Snape looked helplessly at Malfoy, who smirked. Damned git, stranding him with the toddler, who was giving him a sad look. "Up pl'ze?"

"Very well." He lifted the little fellow, who felt a little like a cauldron, he thought; light at first, then heavy, but a good weight all the same. Once settled on his lap, Draco held the dragon against himself and chattered steadily to it, occasionally punctuating his remarks with a stern "No-no, Bas'l' or a kiss on the dragon's plush head.

After a few moments an elf appeared, looking around worriedly for her charge. "Is Master seeing young Master?"

Lucius huffed and gestured to his son, who, giggling, had buried his face in Snape's robes, curling into a ball. Snape instinctively put an arm about the boy to steady him, and was rewarded with a loudly whispered "Shhh, playn Peek, 'Nape. Don't move."

Tibby's face lit up. "Master isn't seeing young Master?"

"Indeed, no. Perhaps you should check the dungeons."

Tibby nodded gravely. "If Tibby is seeing young Master, Tibby is telling him there is being a snack waiting in the nursery." Draco sat up with a gasp. "Apple 'n'honey?"

Tibby nodded. "Yes. But only if Tibby is finding young Master."

Draco squirmed to get down. "Here I am!" Tibby's face lit up with pleasure. "Should we be going and getting young Master's snack?"

"Yes yes yes! Bye Father, bye 'Nape."

"We've been abandoned for fruit, Malfoy."

"Fruit and honey, actually." The men laughed and chatted about other things until the door opened and Draco streaked back in, holding two chunks of blue apple in one hand and the dragon in another. Putting Basil against the closest wall, he ran to Lucius and proffered a piece of fruit.

"Share?" Lucius took it from his son's rather grimy little hand and obediently ate it. "Thank you, Draco. You shared very nicely."

"Bas'l."

"Oh, that was Basil's part?"

Draco nodded, glowering. "Wouldn't eat."

"Dear me. Where is he now?"

Draco pointed seriously, looking as Lucius like as anyone could. "Corner."

"For how long?"

Draco considered. "Hours 'n'hours."

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Commentary?"

"Probably. On Narcissa, would you say?" Draco made his way to Snape and gave him the other slice of apple. Snape stared at it and Draco said helpfully "Eat. Share apple."

Snape hesitated. "Thank you, Draco, but…"

Draco turned to Lucius. "Father?"

Lucius gave his old friend a mock-stern look. "I'd do it. He's shown a willingness to make examples. Wouldn't want to join poor Basil."

Snape ate the apple. Draco nodded, satisfied, and motioned to be picked up again. Snape obliged, and within a few moments the boy was cuddling into his chest. "Father? Bas'l?" Looking slightly sheepish, Lucius summoned the toy and handed it to his son.

"Bas'l!" Draco took his little friend and set the dragon in his own tiny lap. "Be good now?" He shook a finger at the toy, and cocked his head as though listening. "All right, then Take rest." Basil apparently obeyed, because Draco, looking satisfied, snuggled into his godfather and shut his eyes.

Shoes clacked across the marble floor and Narcissa stepped into the room, face glowing with pleasure. "Severus, how good to see you again."

"Likewise, madam. I seem to have something of yours."

Narcissa chuckled and picked her son up. "I'm going to go and see my flowers, Draco. Would you like to come?"

Draco bounced with glee. "Yes! See Ridgey! Garner elf!" He wiggled to climb down. "Mother! Big boy! Wanna walk!"

"You certainly are a big boy, and I'm sure Ridgey will be thrilled to see us."

Draco walked back to Snape and solemnly handed him the stuffed dragon. "You watch Bas'l? He scare Ridgey. Ridgey garner elf." Snape nodded, pretending to understand, and took the slightly sticky toy from his godson.

"If you like."

"Quite an honour, Severus. Even I am rarely called to watch Basil." Lucius couldn't help but feel pleased by the way Draco had taken to Snape. It boded well, and Hogwarts was coming sooner than anyone might have liked.

They settled in once more, until the two adventurers came back, Draco chattering excitedly about seeing the ducks. He'd found a blossom to show Basil to make up for leaving him with a minder. He opened his palm and explained what Ridgey had said about the flower, which was a naa-terr-sh'n.

The adults watched him, charmed, until Draco stopped and listened gravely for a few moments. He thrust his hand out and dropped the flower into Snape's lap. "Bas'l say you have."

"Oh. Thank you."

"Bas'l like you."

"That's capital."

Draco beamed. " I like you. I love you."

Snape felt his world contract just a little. "I…thank you."

Draco waved. "Bye!" He ran to follow Mother, leaving the adults to their own devices.

Lucius said nothing, but noticed Snape had quietly tucked the flower into the pocket of his robes.

**July 1998**

" I said 'Have you any further remarks?'"

Snape shakes his head and fingers the pocket where the fragile nasturtium lays sealed carefully to a sturdy square of thick parchment. " Flowers need shadow as well as sun to thrive."

"Pardon?"

"I have no further remarks at this time."

The questioner nods. "Very well."


	2. Grass and Roses

**A/N: Love to my reviewers**

**And to Countess Black, as always.**

**Grass means 'submission and utility'.**

**The ending paragraph is a reference to Katheryn Howard, the fifth wife of Henry VIII, whom he executed for adultery. Her dying words were allegedly "I die the wife of a king, but would rather die the wife of Tom Culpepper". Henry VIII called her 'rose without a thorn.'**

Wormtail is dreaming. He lies on his back, sprawled on a pile of filthy burlap sacks in some muggle's shed. The muggle is likely dead; Greyback would have wanted to feed. That is not Wormtail's purview, and he if he once cared about such things, that time is past. Now all he cares about is finding something to eat, staying out of Bellatrix and Greyback's way, and what he's doing now.

_Rats have no morality. No sense of pity, or propriety, or good or evil. They just Are. He knows he did something Bad as a Man, but in rat form he doesn't have to remember anything about it. He sees faces, sometimes—a man with eyes like pits. Another man. This one is kinder. A woman with hair(rats, being colour blind, have no sense of shade and tone) like a rustling curtain and a smile. A baby._

_"Oh, you poor thing, did Percy forget you again?"_

_If he focuses very, very hard, he can sometimes use the part of him which is still human to feel. The Rat can feel things, but they are great slashes of emotion: Happy or Sad or Scared or Threatened. The Human feels other things, abstractions and wonderings and memories._

_The Woman is stroking his back. No woman, in his human form, ever touched him of their own volition. He recalls once paid a whore in Knockturn Alley for three minutes of mechanical, blank faced fucking, but that was all, and then it is gone. This woman is touching him because She likes him._

_She is carrying the Rat up the stairs and into his den. Well, the boy's den, but really it's his. Just as the Boy is his in every way that counts. He is fond of the Woman, but the Rat loves the Boy as much as he can._

_The Boy leaps up. "Scabbers! I was coming to get you, but George wanted me to show him how to fix his dragon first."_

_The Rat bounces with joy in Her arms. His Boy, his Boy is here! The Woman hands him over, and the Boy cuddles the Rat under his chin._

_The Woman gives the Boy a kiss, and Scabbers a scratch on the ears. His legs twitch with pleasure, and in his human sleep Peter Pettigrew smiled. The Boy is chattering excitedly, holding him the whole time._

_"Hogwarts tomorrow, Scabbers. Are you afraid?"_

_That name is familiar. His tiny heart gives a painful squeeze but the Rat pushes it away. His human mind whispers that it might be best for him to escape tonight. Find a new family. Muggles, perhaps._

_His Boy holds him tighter. "I'm scared. But you'll be there, and we can Owl Mum and Dad any time we like. It won't be so bad." The rat cannot detect much nuance, but he smells the acrid fear on the Boy's skin._

_Most animagi retain their human minds in animal form, as much as possible. With training, it is not difficult to do. But he was never trained, and he would ignore the training if he'd had it. In this one thing is Pettigrew like Greyback; he has embraced the beast completely, sloughed off his human skin like a snake's. This is a safe place; he has the luxury of forgetting and he takes it. He will never be this lucky again._

_The Human tries to whisper again and Scabbers ignores him. The Human did the Bad Thing. The Rat can sense the poison in the Human's mind and it wishes to sling it forth from itself. It cannot. The Rat snuggles into the Boy's hands._

_The Human has given up. Curled in on himself, he waits for the right time. He can't be a rat forever. Hogwarts is a good starting point. Perhaps try to contact Lucius Malfoy. Not Snape. Never Snape._

_The Rat is blissfully indifferent to all the plotting going on a few neurons away. For him, there is Now, and Now is his Boy and his bed and a moonlight prowl for crumbs as soon as his Boy is safely nested and the house is still._

_"Good night, Scabbers." The Rat has their shared body lie down on the boy's pillow, and the Human doesn't protest. He is still plotting, but for a moment, wonders if he shouldn't let it all go and be the Rat._

_"Love you."_

_He'll worry about it later. Now, he curls into his Boy and sleeps._

A boot in his side. Wormtail sits and stares into the deranged face of Bellatrix Lestange. "I said get up, idiot!" He stands, dusting himself off, and leaves the illusory safety of the little outbuilding. The moon is high above them, and Greyback has given over to the animal within. He is leagues from here, likely, but will return at dawn bloody faced and grinning.

She's ranting at them again, the few who are left. Perhaps she learnt from the Dark Lord. "We'll live as kings! Kings! But first we must cleanse the impure and bring the rest back to the fold!"

"Impure? Like your blood traitor nephew?" Macnair sounded amused and a little defiant both, as though he is thinking to articulate the question they're all thinking about who left her in charge.

Wormtail thinks on his warm box at the Burrow, the tattered old scarf and the crumbs of biscuit Arthur Weasley used to feed him whenever Molly wasn't looking. It's cold here, and they've been eating whatever they could find.

"You have no faith! No faith in the Dark Lord's plans! You're unwilling to work! Lazy whoresons!"Bellatrix's shrieks could rouse the dead. Wormtail steps forwards and says "I'm going to change and take a look around."

"Running away, are you? Just like the rest of these stupid, useless--"

"Actually, I thought I'd see whether there was food enough for all of us somewhere near by."

Bellatrix calms slightly. "Be back by midnight."

He nods and makes for the rose bushes he saw on the side of the house.

"Wormtail?"

"Yes, Bellatrix?"

"I've been under stress lately." She looks away and he understands he is both dismissed and apologized to, a little. "I understand, dear lady."

"We must all make sacrifices. Your hard work now will permit us to make things over in His vision. Be assured it has been noticed and your reward will be great." Wormtail slips away and makes the change.

There is an irony of which he takes note as he melts and reforms in rodent shape; he could, if the plan goes well, die as nearly a king, but he would rather die a humble rat, for as a rat he was loved.


	3. Snapdragons and Hydrangeas

**A/N:**

**Love to reviewers**

**And Countess Black, as always**

**This takes place before chapter 32 of FMS.**

**Warning: This drabble is VERY DARK and includes, among other things, GRAPHIC SEX OF DUBIOUS CONSENTUALITY! I would not consider it rape, per se, but both characters are deeply twisted individuals, and this is meant to reflect that.**

**NO ADVOCACY is implied.**

**Snapdragon means 'deception; gracious lady' presumption' and hydrangea means 'thank you for understanding; fridgity; heartlessness'.**

The Moon took him early tonight. He ran with Her joyfully, and now that it's done he feels the urge. He has a female waiting for him in Wiltshire—little and tender, with melting eyes and a skin smell that still hovers in his nose. His fists clench and he breathes hard for a moment, infuriated that another male had mated with his new young female.

Well, it will be resolved soon enough. Greyback pops his neck and rotates his shoulder. He feels his age these days, often as not, when he runs with Lady Moon. The new young female will invigorate him, he thinks. He flexes his hands and wishes her curly hair was clenched within.

Bellatrix steps from the darkness. He half snarls, but there is little venom there. He has a reputation, after all. Greyback is adept at looking below the layers to find the creature within, and he feels in her a great sharp intelligence, fearsome resolve and unmatched cruelty. If things were different, he would bite her and have done with it. She would be a worthy match for him.

But they are not different. She is not precisely the Dark Lord's successor, but she is as good a claimant as any, one of the nuclei around which the ashes of the Death Eaters have reformed, and he needs her as she is.

"What are you staring at, then, wolf man?"

He laughs. "You, Bellatrix. I presume there's a reason you're skulking out her, rather than holding court in the house?"

She lifts her head. " Wanted a breath of air. I keep forgetting how stupid they all are."

"Even your dear husband?"

Bellatrix tenses slightly. "Rodolphus is as loyal a Death Eater as you will ever find."

"Even with his taste for--"

She holds up a hand. "What do you care? You did it too." She tilts her head back and looks up at him. Her eyes are ringed in kohl, making them disturbing and faintly exotic. Greyback has little taste for the exotic—he prefers them sweetly submissive, with soft pink flesh and girlish looks, on the whole—but Bellatrix is calling to him in his wolfishly heightened state.

She seems to know it, too. She looks down, smirking, and he feels himself hardening a little, craving the feel of a female below him, soft fleshed and ready for him. She steps closer, and he smells some perfume on her, dark and heady. She smells like flowers and blood, just a little.

"You want me." She says it flatly, with neither pleasure nor disgust. Bellatrix has always been beautiful—she understands how a woman can wield her beauty like a knife. She'll use her body to bind herself to him, to keep him near.

Greyback says nothing. He knows he should not—this is no easily cowed girl-woman, but a canny and dangerous Alpha female. His young one might grow into one such as this, in time. With the right guidance, of course.

Bellatrix's eyes are wells with coins of moonlight floating on them. "You are an animal. Not fit for a Black. Not fit for anyone. Even the mudblood is above you."

"She'll be below me soon enough." He tries to force his erection away and fails. Bellatrix steps even closer, face level with his chest, and takes him in hand. Her little hand cups the bulge and he grunts as pleasure radiates from him in hot, slow waves.

"If I am an animal, what does that make you?" He bends his head to her neck and runs his teeth along her throat. Bellatrix shudders and works him free of his trousers.

"I am His most faithful servant."

"Were. His most faithful."

"I—still—am." She is stripping the gown away. She wears the same plain white cotton all Pureblood women wear, and it's driving him mad. She takes her time with the last layers, until the Moon kisses her body and her hair and tells him to mount her.

He feels no compunction. No shame. He is the Alpha—he might have as many females as he wishes. He steps forward and motions for her to present to him in preparation for their mating. She smirks up at him and step back. "Perhaps I've changed my mind." She waves her wand and her underclothes fly toward them.

She means to master him, then. Greyback feels tempted to leave her on the ground and walk away, relieve his needs with the first unfortunate muggle girl he meets. He wants so much to go and claim his female—this woman, any woman, is merely a place holder until that day.

Bellatrix is determined to stick to the plan. She'll let him do it to her, and then he'll be hers. She expects a few moments of damp, fumbling tedium like her husband.

She is a properly raised Pureblood lady, and if circumstance made it so that she was compelled to bear wand against the encroachment of the muggle hoards, she is no hypocrite in things. She has contempt for the flesh and those who are ruled by it. This will happen, and she will close her eyes and see His face.

Greyback is having none of it. He springs, knocking her wand away and pressing her belly first onto a hummock, pulling her hips to his. He thrusts and she moves to meet him, grunting with the force of his motions. She tries to push herself up on her hands and he pins her arms down and keeps thrusting.

Bellatrix is surprised by this turn of events but not disheartened. Let him think he won; she'll still own him in the end. At first what he's doing hurts a bit, but as her body loosens after sixteen years of chastity, complete as a nun's, she finds herself adjusting to his rhythm and joining in.

It's been some time since Greyback has had a female, but the fundaments never change. The female below him is more than willing—even submissively held, she's squirming and sighing and murmuring with pleasure. After a moment he allows her to move, and she presses against him. "Ah, yes, ah, right there…"

"For a female who did not-- want me, you are-- strangely eager-- for it."

"I said I—did not want—_you_—not that I—didn't want—_this_."

"You have --a husband."

"He -- has—tastes." She opens her legs more and presses her face to the earth, breathing the sweet dirt, and pretends it's the Dark Lord mastering her, the Dark Lord bringing pleasure to her secret places. If it's Him, it can't be wrong. If it's Him, she's not disloyal. All for Him, everything for Him.

Greyback wishes it were the other female. Bellatrix is adequate, but he wants his prize. He is pretending it is her crushed beneath him, her soft skin under his torso, her sweet little breasts he is cupping in his hands like apples. He wants more than anything to dominate her as he has Bellatrix at this moment; wants to driver her utterly into the earth so when she rises, smelling of him, she is new-born, a creature wholly different and strange to herself.

"What will you—do to—her? Your mudblood?"

"Take her --over-- and over,--- just --like –this—until his smell is—gone. Make her plead—for it. Make her—scream." He drives deeper into her and Bellatrix's hands curl into claws and rake the earth. She has never felt such bliss. Women do not have these feelings, she knows, and yet her nerves are on fire and her skin is moving like a million little snakes.

"And-- Draco? Yes-- yes, harder,--damn you!"

"I'll make him-- watch while I—take her like-- we are now and—rip out—his heart and—bollocks. I'll make her drink his—blood and taste his—tears. I'll teach him-- to take what's-- mine."

Bellatrix falls off a precipice. Her blood is hot and thick in her veins and she slumps, undone, as above her Greyback finishes and pulls himself out. He regards the female he has just used and tangles his hand in her hair, curly and dense just like his new little one's is. She hasn't cried, though—he knows his new little female will sob like a heartbroken child before he's done breaking her. The thought makes his manhood twitch a bit, but he isn't twenty two anymore, and he lets it go soft.

Bellatrix rolls and eyes him with loathing. "You are an animal." She is panting, skin dripping sweat, and her hair is a ratty cloud above her, not that she cares. Greyback stares down impassively.

"I am a predator. I smelt weakness and I took advantage, no different than you did."

She laughs a bit as she stands and summons her clothes. They dress in silence and prepare to go back separately.

"Your husband truly doesn't mind?"

She shrugs. "He's never said." She is sure her Lord wouldn't fault this…momentary lapse. He would want her to be relaxed enough to carry on His work, and this has helped enormously.

"Greyback?"

"What?"

"When you do those things…may I watch?"

He gives her a surprisingly handsome smile, new scars rippling like embroidery. "Wouldn't have you miss it for the world. Oh, and Bellatrix?"

She raises an eyebrow.

"You aren't as subtle as you think you are."

He ambles off into the woods and she goes to the house after a quick scourgify, wondering what had just happened and whether she'd won after all.


End file.
